


Burn Mona Lisa

by virtuosol



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: F/F, I love writing Jungeun as a sappy loser, I'm here to push the LipSeul agenda, an attempt at being artsy or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21860404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtuosol/pseuds/virtuosol
Summary: Most people only focused on what they could see, causing them to miss the thunder and roar of life that hid beneath it all. Nights like these invited Jungeun to hear that tune. Deep and aggressive as it was, there was a grace to the neverending performance that kept her listening. The sound was molded by years of raw collective experience—upheld by the sinews of a rich culture born from stories of passion, struggle, love, and the reclamation of lost identities. She wanted to understand, wanted to make that connection to help herself, or even other people, but maybe it was impossible.
Relationships: Jo Haseul/Kim Jungeun | Kim Lip
Kudos: 42





	Burn Mona Lisa

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to Burn Mona Lisa by Kyan Palmer for the full experience 😎

New York, New York. That was the place to be. At least, that’s what Jungeun told herself for the last twenty-two years of her life. After moving all the way across the states, she soon realized that the Big Apple’s sterling reputation for making something out of nobodies was largely exaggerated. Although she knew that getting picked up off the streets as a new and budding talent wasn’t the most realistic dream, she couldn’t help but hope that someone would take notice of her. She had the looks. She had the charm. Hell, she could’ve been considered a local celebrity back home if she stayed. But that life didn’t appeal to her. She wanted to make music, and this is where the vision took her: a run-down apartment complex that burned through her savings quicker than she liked situated nearly an hour away from “real city” by train. It was a familiar story for the concrete jungle; she was just another person that thought they were special enough to rock the boat.

Still, she didn’t want to give up. Not when everyone sent her away wearing that knowing expression. Even her parents who wanted the best for her treated the whole thing like a phase. A passing whim that wouldn’t get her anywhere. They wanted it to be something she would learn from, believing whole-heartedly that there was no other end to this chapter in her life than the death of an ego. And if she didn’t want to admit they were right, all she could do was strum away at the guitar she’d been using since seventh grade. The same one her parents gifted her, and the only thing she’s ever asked them for. 

Jungeun had spent her evening huddled on her bed in the corner of her room, looking back and forth between job ads and the suitcase sitting in the closet. Leaving everything behind would be so easy; it wouldn’t be her first time, after all. Sighing, she leaned onto the window sill she’d gotten so well-acquainted with. Even if the apartment itself wasn’t too pristine, Jungeun couldn’t deny that the view was somewhat worth it. Watching people from above had developed into some sort of a hobby, serving as part inspiration and part reminder that there was always something beyond her. Although the reminder itself was lonely, she took solace in thinking everyone else probably felt the same. Glancing up at the sky, she saw the moon hanging high as always—bright and unreachable. Stretching one arm towards the night’s guardian, she hoped to capture some of its exceptionality. Even if she knew it was pointless. 

_Guess I’m back to envying space rocks. Real classy._

A month ago, she might’ve gotten annoyed at its luminance—now, her reaction was more along the lines of self-pity. She brought her hand back to rest on the guitar that laid on her lap, fingers brushing against its nylon strings with a delicacy she failed to apply anywhere else in her life. It was already too far into the evening to play anything, but an essence in her still itched to break the rules of nighttime apartment life at the guitar’s silent encouragement. 

“Maybe next time,” she whispered, her hands reassuringly gliding over its smooth, but weathered surface. Alas, it was just another inconvenience she had to live with. She continued to stare out into the streets in an attempt to prevent troubling thoughts from breaking into her consciousness. The busyness of her borough began to settle down long before she knew it, which was surprising for a city that supposedly never slept.

The late night often brought a chill into the apartment she wasn’t particularly fond of, but she was prepared this time around. Jungeun reached for the blanket that sat just beyond her toes and draped it over her shoulders, ready to sit through silence for the next few hours until she naturally dozed off. This routine wasn’t special by any means, but it helped her get through the nights she missed home the most. Any sense of irony she felt was washed away by the calming effect of New York’s glamor even as she lived its harsh reality. The part of her that fell in love with a metropolitan fairy-tale never left, and this alone was enough to keep her head above the water, albeit unsuccessful on some occasions.

Jungeun let her eyes shut as she listened to the world around her. While most people would have described it as silence, the word had a different meaning since childhood. For her, sound never truly left. If anything—she thought of it like a painting. Fancy and intricate with each new layer but always built on a simple base. Most people only focused on what they could see, causing them to miss the thunder and roar of life that hid beneath it all. Nights like these invited Jungeun to hear that tune. Deep and aggressive as it was, there was a grace to the neverending performance that kept her listening. The sound was molded by years of raw collective experience—upheld by the sinews of a rich culture born from stories of passion, struggle, love, and the reclamation of lost identities. She wanted to understand, wanted to make that connection to help herself, or even other people, but maybe it was impossible

And so she listened. Not to understand, but to feel. She was just another girl from the west coast. A kid from the City of Angels—so aptly named, for how vain it was—looking for a path leading into the rest of her life. The answers _had_ to be somewhere in this sprawling metropolis. She just had to find them. Her search thus far hadn’t turned up anything new, but that was to be expected. For now, the best she could do was clear her thoughts and hope that her truth would pass by at some point, preferably sooner than later. Jungeun let out another sigh while readjusting herself to fit more comfortably in the corner, but stopped mid-shuffle when her ears picked up something divine just beyond her small balcony.

_Too many nights_

_Locked up in this cell_

_Told me your love was good_

_But it burned like hell_

_And I see through unopened eyes_

_Platinum dreams are my future_

_That's what I surmise...._

Jungeun’s eyes shot open at the words to one of her favorite songs. Resisting the urge to leap from her spot near the window, she curiously leaned in as the song went on.

_Drownin' out sounds of you, baby_

_Haven't been feelin' myself lately_

_Eluding these walls that contain me_

_Goodbye to the petals of the daisy_

“Burn Mona Lisa, you’re not as perfect as I thought you were,” she whispered and slowly rose with a firm grasp on her guitar’s neck.

_...Keep your eyes locked on me_

_Well, I'll escape your binding glare_

_Yeah, you're the hand that feeds me_

_But I see past those oil pastels_

_Say you don't want to hurt me_

_But you might as..._

The voice stopped just as Jungeun took her first step onto the balcony, freeing her from the trance that brought her outside. Her body had moved on its own, naturally gravitating towards the sound like a moth to a flame; however, none of it had registered until she locked eyes with another woman around her age. The singer, Jungeun presumed. Nobody else was around, and the woman was certainly pretty enough that anyone would believe her voice was blessed as well. The woman stared back at Jungeun in bewilderment—an appropriate reaction, no doubt, as Jungeun must've looked like nothing short of a disheveled mess. Still, she couldn’t forget her manners. 

“Hi,” she said after an awkward laugh. 

“...Hey?” the woman responded in kind before going on, “Sorry, did I wake you up?” 

“No—” Jungeun raised her arms without a care for the guitar in her hand. The instrument crashed against the door frame of the balcony, undoubtedly giving her neighbors further reason to dislike her. She winced at the ruckus before turning back to the woman across her, mouthing a ‘sorry’ before speaking up, “I was already awake.” 

The woman tried her best to stifle a laugh out of consideration, but the resulting facial expression betrayed her. Jungeun found herself giggling at the sight. This, coupled with how she cradled the guitar like a newborn child, was reason enough to believe the girl was harmless. Her song might’ve been interrupted, but it seems that something far more interesting had arrived in its stead.

“Hmm,” she said, bringing Jungeun’s eyes back to her, “I hope I wasn’t too loud, then.”

Jungeun didn’t realize how odd their circumstances were until the woman brought it up. “Ah, no,” her face felt hot even as a cool breeze filled the alley, “that was actually one of my favorite songs and... I guess I just wanted to listen.” She broke eye contact for a moment after saying her piece. Why was she embarrassed? The woman's eyebrows were now cocked, leading Jungeun to believe that she might have come on too strong. That was, until their gazes met once more. It was tender and playful, almost like an old friend’s. To make it even better, she wore a toothy smile that made Jungeun’s heart swell up a size. 

“It’s one of my favorites too!” she said, pulling up at the ends of her robe’s tassels before continuing on, “I’m Haseul, by the way.” Jungeun let out another awkward chuckle before taking a seat on her shabby lawn chair, forgetting to respond in kind. Haseul waited a moment before clearing her throat. “So uh, what about you?”

The question almost gave Jungeun whiplash. Did she really forget to introduce herself?

“Jungeun! I’m Jungeun.” 

“Right.” Haseul turned her chair so that they faced each other, “So, Jungeun, were you gonna play that?” she asked, pointing at the guitar. 

Jungeun hadn’t stopped rubbing the spot that banged against the frame. “I… No. I don’t really know why I brought it out,” she responded while picking at the nylon under her fingers. Ten years, and it had been her friend the entire time. With the exception of her family and Jiwoo, nothing else had ever been so constant. 

“Well,” Haseul started with a playful tone, “since you got to hear me sing, how about you play something for me?”

“But what about, you know,” Jungeun waved her arms around, probably trying to say something about the neighbors.

“Don’t worry about it. Everyone’s usually asleep by now.”

“But that’s the point.”

“But you look like you want to play.”

“I’m not even that good.” 

“Come on. Live a little.” 

The words hit her in the gut. Haseul had a point. Why was she so ashamed? She came to New York for a reason, and it wasn’t to be intimidated by what everyone else thought of her. She took her eyes off Haseul again and, without thinking, strummed the guitar once. It felt right, listening to the notes disappear in the air. The tautness of the strings under her fingertips. The night’s coldness also went away, if it was ever truly there to begin with. The itch to play flared in Jungeun’s nerves, and she spent the next few moments trying to calm them before making a decision. She looked at Haseul, who was more than ready for an answer. 

“On one condition. You sing along.” 

“Oh,” the other girl said more out of intrigue than refusal, “if that’s what it takes.”

Jungeun took a deep breath as her eyelids fell. She knew the song by heart, and that much was clear after the first few chords came with ease. She preferred playing like this, without any visual feed to cloud her thoughts. It was just her and the music; a landscape for her memories embellished by the special meaning behind every lyric and note. She held her voice through verse and prechorus, waiting to sing until hitting the line Haseul was interrupted at. 

_Stop, take a look around_

_I used to think you were beautiful_

_But what are you now?_

_And underneath those brush strokes_

_Without that mask that you put on_

_Oh, you're such a joke_

_Drownin' out sounds of you, baby_

_Haven't been feelin' myself lately_

_Eluding these walls that contain me_

_Goodbye to the petals of the daisy_

A certain floatiness washed over Jungeun, comfort and relief enveloping her all at once as her hands felt light around the tense strings. She recognized this feeling almost immediately. It was similar to when she first learned to play the guitar. All the fumbling that came with practice; where to push, how hard, and how fast. It was like reliving the time she fell in love with music, where she first experienced the liberation of expressing herself in a way that normal words couldn’t. She retraced the memories with her hands, this time with precision and fluency as proof of her hard work and fondness for the craft. 

_Burn Mona Lisa_

_You're not as perfect as I thought you were_

_Keep your eyes locked on me_

_Well, I'll escape your binding glare_

_Yeah, you're the hand that feeds me_

_But I see past those oil pastels_

_Say you don't want to hurt me…_

_“_ Well, I hurt myself...” Jungeun let the last line out as a whisper, half-afraid of giving it any power. She slumped over the guitar in relief, as if an invisible weight had been lifted from her chest. The breaths she took now were the freshest since leaving home. Her eyelids parted to reveal the guitar sitting on her lap; a familiar, yet novel sight. A hand ran over its lacquer finish as if to apologize for the neglect and mistreatment until now. She had stopped being thankful for the instrument at some point, and it tore her heart to admit it. 

“Bad breakup?” Haseul joked. A tactless approach for sure, but she couldn't think of a better way to unpack the baggage in Jungeun's singing. It took a moment for the girl to lift her head. She was smiling, which was something neither of them expected. 

“More like a reality check,” Jungeun said as she laid the guitar flat against her lap, leaning onto the balcony rail to face Haseul again. 

She almost decided to end it at that with the woman technically being a stranger and all, but a force in her wanted to be heard, if just once since she came to the city. 

“It sounds kind of dumb, but… I moved here to chase my dreams.” 

Jungeun scrunched her face at the confession. Her head lowered to conveniently avoid Haseul’s gaze, but she didn’t stop. “And when that didn’t work out, I think I just shut down. I wanted to think that it wasn’t my fault, so I had to blame the city instead. It took a while before I figured out I was the problem.” 

She shook her still-tingling hands, unsure if she was just giddy or seconds away from having a medical emergency. Jungeun stole a quick glance at Haseul, who hadn’t said anything for a while. Her eyes were closed, lips pursed into a line. What was she thinking about? 

“You have a nice voice.” 

“Huh?”

“It’s very moving. Gets the emotions across.”

“Right. Thank you?”

“Point is... God, I’m so bad at this,” Haseul’s brow furrowed as words continued to elude her, “just keep singing. And playing. And writing. And feeling. Everything else comes later.” She made sweeping motions with her hands as if it added any emphasis to her words. While it could’ve been more eloquent, the sentiment helped Jungeun’s grin soften into a solemn smile. She hadn’t felt this comfortable with vulnerability in a while, if ever, and she certainly didn’t expect it to happen with a stranger. The small change let Haseul know that her words got through, and she couldn’t help but adopt the smile for herself. 

“I mean, dreams are great; you have to be passionate about something to have one. But I don’t think dreams are something you should be in love with. If you fell for the art, you shouldn’t forget that.”

With the ending of their stage, the city’s tune returned to take its rightful place in the night, simple and clean in melody and message. The duo sat wrapped in those rich notes for a while longer, enjoying each other’s company in place of solitude. Tonight was a pleasant surprise for them both, but it had to end all the same. Haseul stood first and stretched before walking over to her balcony door. The sound of shuffling brought Jungeun’s attention from the moon to the woman’s back. She wanted to call out, but fumbled on what to say.

_I’m still being shy after all that?_

Jungeun wanted some sort of guarantee. There were too many uncertainties going forward to be doing it all alone. She wanted to know that tonight meant something, and that it wasn’t just a one-off fluke. Being neighbors from across the alley didn’t mean much in New York. She knew that. Life moved far too fast to rely on coincidences, which meant she had to find some sort of anchoring to build on—a connection, purposeful and true. It wasn’t an option. She needed to say something, so she did. Bursting from her lungs, it almost came out as a yell. 

“Ha—” 

“You know,” Haseul interrupted her, a gentle hand laid still on the doorknob. “Now that I know the person living across from me isn’t a creep, I think I’ll start letting some light in.” She pointed at the blinds of her glass door and paused to give Jungeun a sly smile. “No peeking, though.” 

Jungeun’s ears burned hot at the thought, and she couldn’t have been more glad for the night’s shade at that moment. The teasing caught her off guard, but she couldn’t complain. There was some reassurance for the future in Haseul’s words, after all. 

“Do you do this often?” Jungeun asked. 

“Counseling? No. Balcony concerts? Also no.” Haseul’s pupils were barely visible in the darkness, but Jungeun could feel her soft gaze even as the doorknob twisted. “You just caught me on a rare day.”

“Well, that sucks.”

“Hmm?”

“I just thought,” Jungeun’s fingers clutched the bottom of her chair, “it’d be fun to do this again soon.”

The innocence could’ve put a smile on anyone’s face, and Haseul wasn’t an exception. Another night like this wouldn’t be bad at all; it was just difficult to work around her typical schedule. Then again, she was never the type to turn down a good time.

“Tell you what, how does Monday sound?”

“So soon?”

“It’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> Might be a whole fic if I ever find the inspiration. Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
